


The Sick Day

by afteriwake



Series: Anything Can Happen [22]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Caring Sherlock, Domestic Fluff, Established Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, F/M, Fluff, Food Poisoning, Married Couple, Married Life, Married Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, Poor Molly, Sick Character, Sick Molly, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-05-26 00:01:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6215491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly wakes up in the early morning with obvious signs of food poisoning, and Sherlock does his husbandly duties in taking care of her when she stays home from work the next day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sick Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PMarq](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PMarq/gifts), [elennemigo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elennemigo/gifts).



> And I haven't touched this series in so long, which I feel so bad for! I got a lovely prompt from **PMarq** ages ago that asked for " _Sherlock taking care of Molly who had to call out due to food poisoning,_ " and I let it languish even after **elennemigo** picked it in the fic title acronym prompt choices back in November. And then when Sherlolly Appreciation Week rolled around I decided for Day 7 and the Free Choice day I wanted to update as many of my series as I could. I'm posting this early as my internet access will be limited that day, but I hope neither of you mind the delay in getting this story to you!

She felt absolutely _miserable_.

She glanced at the clock by her bedside and saw it was nearly three thirty in the morning. Her body ached, and she had a fever and was sweating and yet she felt chilled to the bone. Her stomach was cramping and there was sharp pain shooting through her abdomen. She felt nauseated as well, nausea that, after a moment turned into an intense desire to run to the loo and vomit into the toilet. She flung back the quilt, leaving it all piled on top of Sherlock and made a mad dash out of their bedroom and in the direction of the loo, just barely making it in time.

Her mouth was still hovering over the toilet bowl when she saw the washroom light go on above her. “Are you all right?” Sherlock asked, ending his question with a yawn.

“No,” she said groggily, not sure if she was going to vomit again. She waited a moment. “It must have been something I ate.”

“You are the one who likes the shrimp lo mein at that dodgy Chinese food place,” he said, coming into the room with her and kneeling down next to her and rubbing her back. When she lifted her head up again he went to the sink and wetted a washcloth and brought it to her to wipe her mouth. “You might have food poisoning. I’ll see what I can do to make things easier for you.”

“Thank you,” she said, wiping her mouth with the washcloth. He left her alone then as she debated whether she wanted to leave the loo and go back to bed or just camp out by the toilet. The roiling in her stomach was almost enough to convince her to ask Sherlock to bring her a pillow and a quilt and to just finish out her evening by the toilet.

Sherlock came back a few minutes later, his mobile by his ear. She was only half listening but it appeared he was talking to John. When he hung up he looked over at her. “When he gets to the surgery he’ll make sure there is a prescription waiting for you for bismuth subsalicylate. I’ll pick that up later this morning, along with some loperamide in case you have diarrhea. And I’ll stop off at the market and make sure we have broth, soup, fruit juices, soft foods, vegetables, bananas, rice, applesauce and bread for toast. That was what John recommended.”

She nodded weakly. He offered her his hand and she took it to get up, and she leaned into him before he helped lead her back towards the bed. God, she felt awful. She felt lightheaded and weak, and all she wanted to do was get back into bed and curl up and die. He got her into the bed and then went out of the room, and then a few minutes later he came back with a wastebin and set it next to her side of the bed. “You’re going to take care of me, aren’t you?”

“That was part of our marriage vows,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “In sickness and in health, remember? And don’t worry about Lydia. I’ll take care of her.”

“All right,” she said, giving him a weak smile. He moved away from the bed and she shut her eyes and tried to go back to sleep, ignoring her roiling stomach and sense of nausea. Eventually she drifted off to sleep again. When she woke up again she felt a smidge better, but not much. She was in bed alone, but she could hear Sherlock singing to Lydia on the baby monitor. She smiled at that and shut her eyes, listening as it got quieter and then got louder again as she realized he had brought Lydia into the room. She opened her eyes and smiled at her husband and daughter. “Hello.”

“Hello,” Sherlock said, sitting on the edge of the bed with Lydia in his arms. Molly reached over and put a finger out for Lydia to grasp, and Lydia wrapped her fingers around Molly’s finger. “I’m going to get her fed and taken care of, but the medicine is on the nightstand if you need it and I can bring you a glass of water or juice, whatever you think you can handle. John said you’re supposed to replenish your fluids.”

She nodded slightly. “All right,” she said. He got back up off the bed, taking Lydia out of their bedroom, and she sat up slightly and looked at the medications by her bed. She knew the bismuth subsalicylate was going to taste abysmal but it would most likely help. She should probably get something to take the taste out but for now she just wanted to take the medicine so it could start working. She unscrewed the lid of the bottle and took a swig. Yes, she knew she should have measured it out but a guess would be good enough.

When she was done she settled back into the bed again. Food poisoning was awful. She hoped she never had to go through this again. She felt weak and had a headache and there was still nausea to deal with, plus there was still pain in her gut. She honestly felt like death warmed over. If she never went through this again she’d be grateful.

A short time later Sherlock came in with a plate of food, consisting of two pieces of toast with light butter, a small bowl of applesauce and a banana. “Hopefully this will settle your stomach,” he said.

“Thank you,” she said, sitting up more. She took the plate and bowl from him and slowly began to eat. She didn’t have much of an appetite, but it was something. She was going to make sure she kept some of the food down if it was the last thing she did.

“Would you rather have water or juice to start with?” he asked.

“Juice,” she replied.

He nodded. “All right.” He reached over and rubbed her leg lightly. “If you need anything else, let me know.”

“I will,” she said. She gave him a smile. “You always seem to take care of me, you know.”

“I know,” he said, giving her a small grin in return. “But I do love you, and I _am_ your husband, so you should expect it, I suppose.”

“I suppose I should,” she said. “I’ll return the favour one day, I promise.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” he said. He squeezed her leg and then got up. “I’ll be back with your juice in a moment.”

She nodded. “Thank you,” she said. She watched him leave and then went back to the food. She was incredibly lucky to have him in her life, to have him taking care of her, she realized. And she would never, ever forget that.


End file.
